Nice Guys Finish Dead by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [W. johnstone, William; johnstone J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2023-07-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

As he had intended, Colton left his hotel room at first light the next morning. He walked to Marshal Thomas’s office and slid his report under the door. Written on hotel stationery and sealed in a matching envelope, it outlined an almost hourly schedule the two bank robbers kept up to—during and after the robbery. Leaving the marshal’s office, he then walked to the stable and was there waiting for Ernie Williams when the colorful little man arrived to open up. “Looks like you’re anxious to get an early start,” Ernie said.

“Yep,” Colton replied. “I’m gonna try to see if I can pick up a trail that’s gettin’ older by the second.”

“I’ll help you get saddled up,” Ernie said as he unlocked the big padlock on the chain holding the stable doors closed. “I bet you ain’t had no coffee or nothin’ yet, and I’ve got a fire already built in my stove. I’ll strike a match to it, and we can have some coffee soon as that little stove heats up.”

“I ’preciate it, Ernie, but I’ll just make some coffee and some breakfast when I have to stop to rest my horses. I’ve got enough supplies to stop a couple of times before I have to find someplace to buy some more. You go ahead and get your fire goin’ and get your coffee started. I’ll get my horses ready to go.”

“I’ll get my fire started,” Ernie decided, “that won’t take but a minute.” He hurried over to the stove and lit the kindling under his split firewood. He stayed with it only until it caught on well enough so he could leave it to come help Colton. “If you’da told me you was wantin’ to get away this early, I mighta got here earlier.”

“This is plenty early enough,” Colton assured him, “just right, in fact. You got my bill figured up?” He paid him and led the horses outside the stable.

“You take care of yourself, young feller,” Ernie told him as the deputy stepped up into the saddle.

“I’ll do that. You do the same,” Colton replied, and wheeled Scrappy away from the stable. He turned the bay gelding back toward the Cotton Growers Bank, and when he reached it, he turned down the side street toward the old cemetery. As he approached it, he formed a picture in his mind of the two bank robbers—not in disguise as two old men, but as the younger men who played the parts. And when he pictured them, he saw Casey and Eli riding past the back corner of the graveyard, leading their packhorses past the ridge and down to the creek. On this morning, it was still early enough that barely enough light penetrated the heavy ceiling of tree branches covering the creek bank to reveal the trail marked by broken bushes. He had enough light to follow the trail left by the four horses, plus his own footprint occasionally from the day before, for at least part of the way.

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